Body Of Truth by Deirdre Savoy

was not one mention of the shooting on Highland Avenue that took Wesley’s life and maimed her, but several minutes were devoted to Amanda Pierce’s murder, even some footage from a press conference held by the police commissioner with a line of grim-faced men and women standing behind him who Dana figured must be connected to the case.
    For the life of her, Dana couldn’t figure out why this one woman’s death should garner so much attention. For the most part, she’d profiled celebrities, though she probably had some muscle with the local politicians, as well. As the reports told it, she used her fame to fundraise for the Democratic Party. Still, all the hoopla seemed like overkill.
    Or maybe it was the classic case of white chick ventures into the ’hood and gets killed or raped or breaks a fingernail and then the world rallies around to make sure the guilty are punished.
    The commissioner shifted, revealing one of the men behind him: Jonathan Stone, the “baby” of Joanna’s family. Joanna had told her he was working homicide now. The last time she’d seen him in the flesh had been a year ago at the family’s Fourth of July barbecue in Joanna’s back yard. As usual, he’d stood off to the side, distant and silent.
    For a moment, she could have sworn she’d caught him staring at her. Unlike most men in that situation he’d kept on staring. She’d stared right back at him as a sort of challenge—until Joanna’s youngest had come up to him, startling him. He’d obviously been lost in thought, not paying any attention to her at all.
    That was fine, since she wouldn’t have welcomed his attention in the first place. Her ideal man didn’t suffer from a death wish and was slightly more communicative than the average brick wall.
    The doorbell rang, pulling her from her musings. She only hoped it wasn’t Joanna, who, fed up with talking to a machine, had decided to check out her welfare in person.
    She crossed the living room and walked the short distance down the hallway. She walked to the door but didn’t bother looking through the peephole. It had long since clouded over and she’d been loath to pay for a new one since she didn’t get many visitors to begin with. “Who is it?” she asked.
    â€œIt’s Jonathan Stone.”
    A mixture of surprise and alarm ran through her on hearing his voice. She pulled open the door, regretting her decision not to answer any of her friend’s calls. “Is Joanna all right?”
    He looked surprised at her question, the most emotion she’d ever seen on his face. “As far as I know, she’s fine.”
    Now it was her turn to be puzzled. “Then why are you here?”
    â€œI’d like to speak with you about what you saw Friday morning in connection with the Amanda Pierce case.”
    Her eyes narrowed as she considered him. “I thought those calls were confidential.”
    â€œMay I come in?”
    Annoyed that her confidence had been broken and the fact he neither confirmed nor denied that it shouldn’t have been, she said, “Are you sure you don’t want to rifle through my trash cans first? Or maybe you prefer some other way of invading my privacy.”
    â€œIt’s not like that, Dana.”
    That was exactly what she hated about cops—they thought their ends justified any means. She didn’t know how the police had figured out she had called in, and it didn’t really matter. It would never occur to them to leave someone alone if they thought it would help their case.
    She huffed out a breath. He was here already and he was her best friend’s brother. She might as well answer his questions and be done with it. It could be worse. She could have Moretti questioning her, but this time she’d bet the case would get more than a cursory investigation.
    â€œCome on in,” she said, “but I doubt I can tell you